


Caught Red-Handed

by CinnamonChild, ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon



Series: With A Pinch Of Cinnamon [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Lance, Dirty Talk, F/M, Female pronouns for Pidge, Fingering, Hand Jobs, It’s Mainly Just Smut, Lance is Kinky, Love, Oral Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, There Is No Mainly It’s Just, Top Pidge, also ish, blowjob, funny ending, ish, not safe for work, plance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonChild/pseuds/CinnamonChild, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon/pseuds/ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon
Summary: Pidge needs a hand trying to fix her invention.Lance has two.They’re just… a little preoccupied…





	Caught Red-Handed

_Okay, so maybe that didn’t work,_ Pidge thought to herself, wiping her brow of soot, wincing when the smoke finally cleared and the sight of the target zone was nothing but black ash and broken compartments of scrap metal. At least the Castle wall was still intact, meaning Pidge wouldn’t be receiving a _major_ backlash from Coran anytime soon. If she could clear up her mess, that was.

The spider-drone, Gamma 344 _something something_ scuttled away, trying to act innocent, as if it hadn’t just completely decimated its target rather than capturing it. Still, Pidge was pleased to note it’s manoeuvrability would be an asset in bolstering the Castle’s internal defences, if they ever got infiltrated again. Failure was the mother of progress, so to speak, and Pidge was close. She just needed…. 

“Lance, you mind giving me a hand?” The Green Paladin said, strolling into the lounge, where blankets and empty bowls remained, but not the Sharpshooter. He had been helping earlier, but after a near miss with an exploding urchin-bomb, and two nails too close to his immaculate hair, the wuss had retreated to crash on the sofa with space-time TV and Hunk’s secret stash of Comet Nuggets.  
Hunk couldn’t scold the other; himself and the rest of Team Voltron being planetside for the sake of amalgamating an alliance with the bull-headed species of _Kaut._  
And so, free to roam the castle and do as he pleased, Pidge was sure Lance would be found pigging out on junk food or trying to get a few more points on the training program while Keith was out the way, but he wasn’t there either.  
Which meant the idiot was having a nap…

Not a bad prospect considering they didn’t have any pressing mission to attend to, and the pair of them were babysitting the Lions and the Castle…  
Well, whatever, Pidge needed help _not_ getting on Coran’s bad side, and Lance could at least help his girlfriend out. Maybe they’d compromise and have a nap together later, or cuddle up in front of the TV and watch that crappy question and punishment show that broadcasts every other Quintant. 

So, when Pidge opens Lance’s door, she’s expecting to find him asleep, or at least halfway into dreamland.  
What she’s not expecting is the sight of her boyfriend, half laid, half sat on his bed facing her with all glory shining. 

The room was full of heavy breathing, obscene noises of skin slapping skin where Lance drags on his cock, unaware of his audience who has paused in the doorway.  
His pants were hanging off the edge of the bed, his boxers pulled down to his ankles, off one but not quite the other like he was in a rush. His shirt is hooked up over his head, glistening chest bared, sweaty and already marked with his seed where he’s reached release once. One hand pinches an exposed nipple, body shaking under the touch of his own hands. 

It’s clear this has been going on a while. Lance had propped himself up with his pillows, leaving two hands to busy themselves with pleasuring his cock, left swapping between perky nubs while his right picks up the pace, voice choking on noise where he’s torn between singing like a wanton whore and trying to keep himself quiet. 

Pidge forgets about being quiet. Like a moth to a flame, she felt the want ignite inside her, drawing her closer. The door slid shut with a hiss, the lock clicking loud enough to draw Lance’s attention from his throbbing dick to his soul audience. 

“H-Hey babe,” Lance pants out in greeting.  
Any normal person would have the decency to feel a twinge of embarrassment at being caught in such a predicament, but Lance isn’t one of them. Instead of stopping his hands, he simply slows them, his right loosening his grip to allow thought to return to his brain while Pidge stands there like a drooling child in front of a candy shop window.  
She’s speechless, halfway between ecstatic and _nervous._ Probably a little confused as well, because the calculations in her head had told her ‘training’ or ‘lazing,’ not _masturbating._  
And oh, doesn’t he look debauched, his knees apart, his hand around his cock and that slight squeeze that turn the entertain snort in a choked off sort of groan. 

Oh. 

And Lance, noticing the flush on Pidge’s cheeks isn’t from embarrassment, just smiles this stupid bloody smile, rubbing a finger beneath his flushed cockhead, an invitation breathed out in a moment of intense pleasure, “you just going to stand there?”

Pidge wastes no time. She’s across the bedroom, kicking off her shoes before clambering up onto the bed, catching Lance’s lips against her own, one hand dropping to catch his hand around his dick, the other steadying herself over him, stealing all oxygen and focus.  
Lance preened, discarding the notion of keeping quiet as Pidge tugged him to the edge, and then… _let go._

“P- Pid—”  
“Not yet,” she grins, because she’s going to enjoy this. They’re _both_ going to enjoy this. 

Lance catches on when Pidge sits back on her heels, deftly removing her shirt before Lance can get his hands off his body to help her. She didn’t play on the theatrics like normal, too hungry for more of Lance, with him before her like a freshly-wrapped Christmas gift. 

Pidge aims for his neck. Lance would’ve made a joke about vampirism if his words weren’t silence by a very manly yelp brought upon by the teeth grazing at his flesh at the same time that a small, warm hand encircles his dripping cock. Pidge chuckles when Lance moans, feeling eyelashes flutter on his cheek when he closes his eyes and lets himself just _feel._  
Her hands on his dick, his chest, her teeth on his neck, knees pushing at his legs to part them and _keep_ them apart. In a tight grip, she jerks him off with quick motions, nibbling, sucking, tasting Lance as he shivers under her touch. He begins to ride the rhythm, clutching to Pidge, garbling any nonsense that makes it past his lips, wanting more, _begging more._

Then Pidge is moving back, fingers lingering on Lance’s perky, pinched nubs, already a little sore from being teased, sensitive enough that the ghost of her breath stills his voice and he’s moaning into the moment, those incessant little words spilling from his mouth, filling the air with desire.  
“Please Pidge, please, please,” he preens, chest arching up when teeth catch and _oh god,_ she could listen to him sing like this forever. She licked and sucked and pulled at his cock all at the same time, winding him up into a ball of nerves, her fingers playing across his body like piano keys.  
Lance can feel a hand on his knee, feel it snaking up his leg. There’s a moment when it pauses on his hip, then it’s gone, it’s massaging his balls and, “oh god, _oh god_ stop, stop, babe _stop!”_  
He pushes her chest, not expecting the sudden chill from complete withdrawal. Breathing hard through his nose, he manages to open his eyes, searching for the younger, who sits back on her heels, waiting. 

This time, Lance’s cheeks do flush from embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it like _stop_ stop,” he says, trying to backtrack back to lust and touching and release and— “I mean, like it was— kinda like— um…”  
She’s smiling. “Come on Lance. You’ve got to tell me. What is it _exactly,_ that you want me to do?” 

Because Pidge can be a little shit too, and she knows it, watching the way Lance squirms, his hands pausing where he wants to continue this, but he wants Pidge to join him, _so badly._  
“Come on Lance. Tell me~” After all, it wasn't like him to be _so damn quiet._

“Um, I’d like you, well…” he trails off, eyes dropping to his dick, then back to Pidge, all pleading eyes and pouty face that always makes Pidge melt. But not this time.  
“Hmm?” she smiles, turning away, kicking her feet off the bed so she can shimmy out her trousers. This time, she’s slow, making a deliberate motion of caressing her own skin when fingers pause at the hem of her pants, just the band of underwear peeking from the side.  
Lance watches, heat on his cheeks, dick forgotten as he mouths words that won’t come out. Pidge grins again. “Oh, you don’t want _this,”_ she says, kicking away the garment, hands rubbing across her porcelain skin. 

“You want me to jerk you off again. Again, and again until you’re spent.”  
Pidge’s fingers curl around Lance’s ankle, two peeling away until they’re walking up his leg, the tips of her nails sending electricity coursing through the boy’s body.  
Lance is frozen. He doesn’t move.  
It’s Pidge’s time to play with him, to tease him, to mess with him. She’s got him in the palm of her hand, knows exactly what to say, what to do, where to plant her lips so that he’s nothing but putty in her hands. 

Pidge’s kitten kisses pressed light on Lance’s prick, warm and soft warmth wrapping around him as she began torturously slow; a barely-there grip on his base, the other hand fondling his balls just enough to keep him hard, but not enough to stimulate release.  
Without a heartbeat of warning, Pidge took Lance in her mouth. The sudden wetness around his cock pushed Lance’s hips up, off the bed, a cry of desperate desire filling the air. Pidge just grinned, _the smug little shit._  
She could take him to the hilt with little resistance, the art of a practiced affair easy for her as she held Lance down firmly to stop him from humping her mouth. She pushed one hand up, creeping up his skin, fingertips light against curling abs, a flick to Lance’s nipple. He moaned. 

Pidge knew Lance loved it when she used her tongue like this, brushing up the underside of his cock, laving at his balls until they were soaked, teasing his slit until he was all saliva and semen, panting hard. The little shit was so fucking pleased with herself, but she wasn’t about to finish their impromptu sex-fest with him fucking her mouth until they were blissed for hours. 

So, Pidge hums, knowing what it does to her throat, watching Lance’s hands fist into the bedsheets, back arching, but not as much as before when Pidge pinches, _hard,_ and he drops back to the bed with a cute little defeated sound, because this isn’t what he wants. 

So, when Pidge pulls off his cock head with that corny, comic book “ _pop”_ Lance spreads his legs. _Wide._

“Fuck me?” 

Pidge is all too willing.

It’s not the first time that Pidge is thankful for their living quarters to have their own ensuite and she’s sure it won’t be the last. Still, things are a lot easier considering Lance is bare-assed and she’s close to it, even though they’re alone in the Castle. A little voyeurism might be fun for another time, but right now Lance is practically begging to be fucked, and what kind of girlfriend would Pidge be to turn him down?

Lance climbs into the shower first, Pidge barely out her underwear before she’s caught in his hand and he pulls her under the water flow, ducking down to close the distance of warm, wet, _wanting_ lips. This part they’re used to, even ever since the beginning when it was blushing cheeks and parting glances, before Pidge corned Lance, kissed him and didn’t look back. Now they’re as close as the sweetest lovers, able to discuss anything and everything, but also all over one another one they have the time away from training and cleaning up Zarkon’s messes. 

Lance is still kissing Pidge, trying to let his hands grab the detachable shower head without taking his attention off of the shorter, still pressed up against him. It’s futile, but Pidge just laughs, flicks his nose and whispers a _“later”_ into his skin. He asked her to fuck him and she’s going to. But first comes that slow, sweet lovin’ so he doesn’t feel pain. 

Pidge takes her time, starting with the water flow, not bothering to hide her amusement at all the little sounds she pulls from Lance but twisting and turning the hose until Lance gasps because _“holy shit,”_ and Pidge is teasing Lance that he loves the shower more than her.  
“Nope never,” he says after a chaste kiss. “But if you keep me waiting, me and the shower might just have an affair.”  
Because Lance is a smug little shit and he knows how to rile Pidge up, that she’s shoving him back out the shower, abandoning the need to dry themselves. The bed sheets will do that for them while she fucks him raw. 

Whatever grace the two of them held the first night they spent together is abandoned in the heat of lust, Lance climbing the bed while Pidge ducks to pull out a seemingly ordinary box full of not-so-ordinary things. But when she opens it up, their favourite purple dildo isn’t the first thing she sees. 

“Lance, what’s this?”  
And the dick, his shit-eating grin lighting up his face, just raises his ass from where he’s waiting on the bed. “My dear, what do you think it is?”  
“I think it’s a torture device,” Pidge says, lifting up the strap-on with a cocked eyebrow. The shaft isn’t quite as thick as the purple dildo, but this one is slightly longer. It looks kind of daunting.  
“I said fuck me, and I thought we could do it with that.” 

Pidge doesn’t pull her eyes off the silver cock, eyeing it suspiciously. “Are you sure?” Because Lance is always joking and messing around, but this is new territory _(not_ new _new, but enough that it’s making Pidge take pause)._ She gives him a chance to back out, grabbing the purple dildo too, and the lube that won’t leave stains on the sheets.  
But when she joins Lance on the bed, he snatches the dildo and holds it out of reach. “I’m serious Pidge. When I said I want you to fuck me, I mean it.” His cheeks get a recharge and he’s flushing again. “Still, buying that was a pain. The cashier was really into it,” he mumbled, then shivered slightly, but that could’ve been from the cool air of the bedroom. They both neglected to dry themselves after all. 

“Well if you’re sure—”  
“Pidge.” She looks up, eyes bugging slightly at the side of Lance laid on his back, legs wide, a finger touching the rim of his hole like he’s pointing it out for her. “I’m sure. So, hurry up and fuck me before I go and cheat on you with the shower.” 

Nothing more needs saying. Pidge diligently pulls on the strap-on, not sure if she should smile or be confused at the weight pulling on her midriff. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about this before, but clearly Lance was more proactive when it came to introducing new games to the bedroom. Her ideas were more like strip poker, while his… 

“So how do you want me?” Lance jokes, returning to lie on the bed, arms up behind his head, showing off his body. He keeps swapping poses to Pidge’s amusement until she grabs him and flips him so he’s on all fours. And then, “is this how I look from the back? No wonder you love me like this.” Lance just throws his head over his shoulder. “Trust me, you look even better.”  
“Just as delicious?” Pidge asks before pressing her teeth to one of Lance’s cheek, her hands roaming over his nicely rounded ass, all perky and smooth. Lance groans, trying to muffle it in the pillows, acting like Pidge isn’t making him come undone before she’s even stuck a finger in. 

Pidge continues marking him with small little nibbles; a real crowd pleaser if the noises Lance is making are anything to go by. She extends two fingers, all slick with lube before pressing lightly at the mouth of his ass, poking at his entrance, circling, rubbing over, circling around and _in._ Lance gasps, but it slips into laughter when Pidge grabs his hand that lay lack on the bed. She’s always acting confident and sure, but he can feel her love when she grabs his hand to assure him, she doesn’t want to hurt him, she just wants to make love, she wants the two of them to make love together. 

“I’m okay Pidge. Stop worrying.”  
He laughs again, or begins to, but Pidge’s fingers dive in, deeper this time. Almost as if in retaliation to being laughed at. When the initial shock wears off, Lance gives Pidge a look, halfway between a question and an invitation. It’s not hard for Pidge to choose which interpretation she wants, her fingers pushing in a little further, pressing light against the inside of Lance, nowhere deep enough to his little knot of nerves, but enough that his breathing changes and he pushes his face back into the pillow as a string of obscenities rush out his mouth. 

Pidge bites down on her boyfriend’s ass to hide her grin, even if there was no need for it. Who cares, she likes leaving her mark on Lance, be it little loving marks of her teeth or the faint bruises of fingerprints. They’re her trophies; ones that can remain for hours of days, counting down the moments until Lance and Pidge will find another moment to join and infuse their bodies with endless confessions. 

While her fingers work their way, in and out in an equal pattern, her second hand pulls painfully slow underneath Lance’s chest, pinching his nipple. He moves to stroke himself where Pidge is neglecting his dripping cock, but Pidge bats his hand away before he can get in one full stroke, leaning over his to whisper into his ear. _“Na ah,_ today you’re going to come from your ass.” 

“And what a beautiful ass it is,” she adds, pulling back, slipping a third finger into Lance’s ass, pushing past his tight ring - a hiss from him - and she’s in, the slow _in and out_ picking up its pace.  
Lance throbs in excitement, another endearing curse word sent his girl’s way when she hooks her fingers just right and he yelps in pleasure. 

When the fourth finger is added, Lance throws his head back, back arching down, his voice carrying loud in the otherwise quiet room. Pidge is positively enthralled, twisting her fingers, watching the way Lance rides the electric pleasure she is granting him. “Ready?” she breathes, as breathless as him who can only nod enthusiastically, humming something about being ready since he was born, or something.  
He takes advantage of the moment Pidge pulls out her fingers to lube up the dildo hanging from her midriff to stroke himself, but he doesn’t let himself come. Not yet, not until he’s got a cock inside him, making him come undone.  
“Pidge I want you,” he says, the emptiness of his body allowing his brain to somewhat function enough to speak. “I want you so bad.” 

Pidge answered him by pressing the tip of the cock head to Lance’s waiting hole. “You ready?” she breathes again, offering an out that’s never been taking. Like hell Lance will take it now. 

“Fuck me.” 

Carefully, Pidge leans in, one hand pressing into Lance’s cheek, the other guiding the length deeper inside her partner, as slowly and as softly as she could. Lance didn’t want slowly and softly. He wanted hot and heavy, enunciating as such by pushing back, his glorious hole swallowing Pidge’s cock with greed. The moan was almost enough for Pidge to lose her head and plunge into him, but this was a new angle for her, rather than lying beside her boyfriend, her hand between his legs, guiding the dildo in, up and down, as if she was jerking him off and not fucking him with a hand-held dick. 

Once the entire shaft was sheathed, Pidge withdrew her hand from its underside, steadying herself on Lance’s back, the two of them still, giving time for Lance’s body to adjust. He’s panting, fists curling into the sheets to keep his grip from his own cock, impatience rearing its head when he can’t wait any longer and “fuck me Pidge, _just fuck me till I can’t feel anything.”_  
He could feel her hands on his cheeks, guiding the first thrust, the second, the third, the _god this feels so good!_

Pidge is slow at first, but is quick in picking up the pace, learning the motion of dragging her hips back and forth, fully sheathed and then almost out. She keeps going, the slightest movement allowing her aim to differentiate until Lance practically mewls, his arms limp and he’s dropped to the bed. _Ah, she found it._

The feeling of Pidge’s cock pounding against Lance’s prostate was irresistibly good, better than anything Lance had ever felt alone. He moves his hips faster, feeling the heat pooling in his gut, drawn in from the tips of his fingers, the tips of his toes, _everywhere_ like his body isn’t his body at all but a thousand fireflies all humming and buzzing, searching for the way out. Warmth drips down his length, but Lance doesn't care, he’s going to come, _he’s going to come, he’s going to—_

Pidge pulls out, pulls back, hands on Lance’s knees, his legs, anything. “Flip over,” she pants. Lance obliges, watching as Pidge falls on top of him, mouth claiming his for hot, wet needy kisses. The cool touch of air replaces the feeling, Pidge on her heels, hands lining up her strap-on, the head in and then the hilt. No wait, no pause, no nothing but heat and lust and friction between them, stretching Lance wide, filling him deep. He feels like he’s going to rip in half, but it’s not a bad feeling, the pain an addiction he never wants cured.  
_“Fuck,_ Pidge,” he grins, trying to speak more than the basic grunts a neanderthal would be capable of. But it’s a gift in itself as Pidge thrusts in hard, thrusts deep until Lance’s voice mauls her name with a series of inhuman sounds. _She’s_ doing this to him. _She’s_ the one that has turned his brain to mush, watching as his hands grab at her sides, her back, her legs, just trying to find something to cling onto as she fucks him into oblivion. 

“Come on baby, tell me you love it,” Pidge says, her own mind addled, all love-drunk and hungover on ecstasy.  
She pushes all the way in, Lance letting out a wanton groan, shamefully loud but not loud enough. He can’t help it. It just feels so damn good. But lying back and taking it isn’t Lance’s style, joining his girlfriend’s pace as he ruts down against her hips, pulling her in for a taste of mouths and teeth and everything that sends them closer and closer to the edge. 

“Pidge,” he groans, then cries out as she slams into him, hitting that sweet spot with precise accuracy. Again. _Again._  
Pidge thrusts in, skin slapping skin, Lance practically boneless as he nears release, Pidge dragging him to the edge but holding him back from it as her own fire lights in her chest. It starts in her fingers, burning under her hands, in her chest till her breath is gone. It’s in her toes, across her back like wings folded underneath her skin. She wants to fly, _she wants to soar above cloud nine and never come down—_

“Coming,” Lance breathes, the thought of speaking abandoned as he reaches up to grab Pidge’s neck and pull her down into a deep kiss. She pushes in, their movements in tandem and speeding up. She bites his lip. He parts them, and her tongue dives into his mouth.  
When they both pull back to breathe, Pidge plays her nails down Lance’s chest, simultaneously catching his nipples, giving them both a lil ’ lovin’ with a quick pinch.  
Lance doesn't realise his hands are on his cock until their not; they’re pinned above his head under Pidge’s firm grip. With her knees she pushes his legs further apart, repositioning herself to angle her thrusts just right, just so that she’s hitting his prostate every time and _“fuck, Pidge… harder, harder…”_ Lance moans, sounding perfectly wrecked. 

“Coming,” he says again, because this time it’s true; he can feel it snaking from his stomach down to his aching cock. It’s almost painfully hard, it hasn’t been touched and yet here he is, about to come. “Want to cum,” he begs, feeling Pidge’s teeth against his nipple. The pleading makes her laugh, her head lifted, eyes meeting. 

“Come.” 

It’s her word that is enough to make Lance come, screaming her name, coating his stomach and hers with his hot fluid. Pidge stills over him, watching him come apart in her hands. 

Lance preens, a lazy hand trailing up Pidge’s stomach. “Want a go?” he grins, nodding to the silicone dick still sheathed inside him. Pidge scrunched up her nose, a lazy finger nudging his own spent prick. “Sorry, but I’m a classic girl through and through. Nothing but the genuine article for me.”  
“Then I have to oblige. After all, you’re yet to come,” he says, hands trailing down her hips, undoing the knot on the base of her spine that holds the strap-on in place. She moves back when he frees her, letting Pidge pull the cock from him, just as slow and just as sweet as she’s always done between round one and two. 

But just as Pidge wraps a deft hand around Lance’s cock, ready to tease it into standing tall, a knock sounds on Lance’s door. There’s a beep and the sound of the system arguing with the request to open: the lock still firmly in place. 

“Uuh, Lance?” It’s Shiro. _Of course it is._  
His voice sounds odd from this side of the door: small, perhaps a little meek. 

“Yes, Shiro?” Lance replies, a finger pressed to his lips when he grins at Pidge. She grins back, the pair of them turning to the door, wondering if he’s here asking for Pidge, or about to ask for her whereabouts. 

“Lance, why is your door locked?”

_Oh, my sweet summer child._

“It’s downtime Shiro. I’m just clocking in a few hours while we’re not being hunted down by Zarkon.”  
“Ah, yeah… uh that makes… sense.” 

The shits share a grin. 

“Um, anyway, I was just coming to let you know, err, that we’re back now. But Pidge isn’t… I mean, she’s not in Green’s hangar and I think something exploded. You haven’t seen her, have you?”  
“It’s okay Shiro. I’m just getting lucky with Lance,” Pidge says before Lance can, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Okay, yes, they were dating, but it wasn’t something they’d exactly told the team in case it changed their dynamics or something. And Pidge didn’t exactly want “the talk” from Space-Dad, nor his overprotective tendencies, so it was surprising that _she_ was the one verbally admitting it. 

“P-Pidge!”  
“Yes Shiro, it’s me. Now, we’ve got another fifteen or so doboshes until free-time is over, so if you don’t mind Lance and I would like to get back to our… bonding moment.”

“S-sorry!” Shiro practically _squeaks._ Lance is pretty sure they can both feel the heat of his cheeks from where they’re still tangles. “Five more minutes Shiro,” Lance promises.  
“Ten,” Pidge counters quickly, laughing at the sound of retreating footsteps, Lance joining in before rising up to claim Pidge’s lips, his dick already twitching where he’s ready to go again. 

“Come on then. Let’s make the most of the next ten minutes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this wonderful work, collaborated with CinnamonChild! 
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed this and fancied checking out my other stuff, I've got Klance fics, ultimate Langst fics, a little Shance and then a treasure trove of one shots in the series "Altean Bedtime Stories" which I’m collecting prompts for, so if you want to throw me a pairing, a title or a prompt – in the comment section – I would GREATLY appreciate it!!!  
> Also, prompts aren’t restricted to Voltron. If there’s anything you want me to have a go at, throw the idea my way and I shall try not to butcher it!
> 
> I've finally set myself up a "Buy Me A Coffee" page, so if you want to support me, motivate me, or just keep me awake with caffeine, then at is all graciously accepted! Remember, [ dragon's love coffee too!](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/5luohPY3v)
> 
> Much love xxx


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